"…Are you truly certain about this?"
The Murim Alliance Leader, who had been about to step forward, paused and spoke to Seomun Hwa-rin as she returned.
When I first saw the Sword Demon, I felt relieved. Perhaps because the Simma had given it a physical form, its killing intent was absurdly thick, but its martial level was said to be similar to my original self, Cheon Hwi.
But a single Exchange was enough for me to realize it. That the Sword Demon was terrifyingly strong.
It was a martial art honed over a lifetime. After becoming the Murim Alliance Leader, I had focused on administrative duties, but I had never let the staff leave my hands.
During my prime, I was said to be among the top three martial artists of the Orthodox Sects. That said it all.
No matter how impressive Cheon Hwi's recent feats were, I hadn't thought I'd be pushed back this far.
It was all a misunderstanding.
Just once.
With a single sword strike, he realized it. The gap between himself and the Sword Demon.
It wasn't a full-power attack, but it was a coordinated strike so cunning that it left no room to evade.
To catch a dog that darted here and there, one needed a trajectory just as unpredictable.
The Staff-Beating Technique was a martial art with its own insights into the Mystery of Change, so the Murim Alliance Leader had been confident.
But the staff, swung with the potential to branch out into hundreds, thousands of possibilities, was forcibly compressed by the Sword Demon into the worst possible trajectory.
Without the Murim Alliance Leader even realizing it, against his own will, his staff twisted and swung toward the Great Master Jeonghyeon standing across from him.
The Sword Demon's enlightenment was remarkable, but the sword he wielded was not. His stance was clean, yet it was simple swordplay, nothing worthy of being called a Technique.
As pure martial art, it was at best first-rate. Even at his peak, he could barely scrape by as an advanced martial art.
And yet, that very martial art had bent the Murim Alliance Leader's staff.
It wasn't simply that he had lost a single Exchange. The Murim Alliance Leader's entire lifetime had been dismantled by the Sword Demon.
He had no choice but to admit it. A young man who had lived barely over twenty years had already surpassed him.
This thought did not change in the second joint attack either.
As much as Cheon Hwi had intervened, they were able to land a solid hit on the Sword Demon… but even in situations where he himself would have died several times over, the Sword Demon stubbornly survived.
And all the while, he radiated a killing intent so fierce it would have startled even the Murim Alliance Leader himself, who had reached the Harmony Realm decades ago and mastered the use of Intent.
Even as his limbs were shattered one by one, the Sword Demon's blade only grew sharper.
And Seomun Hwa-rin knew this well.
As the Murim Alliance Leader, who knew how close Cheon Hwi and Seomun Hwa-rin were, he could not understand how she could remain so calm after sending him alone against the Sword Demon.
The others, though they did not voice it, seemed to feel the same—their gazes fixed on Seomun Hwa-rin with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
Receiving all those stares, Seomun Hwa-rin watched Cheon Hwi's retreating back as he advanced alone and let out a soft chuckle.
"If I said I wasn't worried, just as I held Hwi back a moment ago, that would be a lie. However, I have faith in him."
"Faith in what?"
"Hwi was born and raised in Zhejiang Province, and though he has lived like one of the Unorthodox Sects…"
Did they say he had become the number one of the Unorthodox Sects?
No matter how strong he was, if he didn't have that unorthodox quality about him, the unorthodox martial artists would never have acknowledged Cheon Hwi.
In other words, he possessed a side of the unorthodox that even the martial artists of the Black Alliance recognized.
The Murim Alliance Leader, who had been shocked when he first heard this story, couldn't help but tilt his head at what Seomun Hwa-rin said next.
"And yet, Hwi's foundation is more orthodox than anyone's. That is why he may be hurt, but he will never be defeated by his Simma."
"…What did you say?"
"I said that Hwi will never be defeated by his own Simma."
"Because he is an orthodox martial artist?"
"Because he is an orthodox martial artist."
Seomun Hwa-rin nodded with a serious expression. But the Murim Alliance Leader still could not understand.
Being an orthodox martial artist did not mean one was immune to being devoured by Simma and suffering Qi Deviation, nor did it mean one valued righteousness above personal safety.
As the Murim Alliance Leader, he was well aware of all the filthy deeds that took place within the Murim Alliance. That was precisely why he found it even harder to comprehend.
Before those who could not understand, Seomun Hwa-rin smiled faintly.
"Just watch. I have never once seen Hwi lose while in this kind of mood."
At that moment, everyone's gaze returned to Cheon Hwi.
The Sword Demon's sword and Cheon Hwi's sword began to move at the same time.
There was no flashy clash typical of Harmony Realm martial artists.
No slashes that split the air itself, no swords twisting along incomprehensible trajectories, no Aura vast enough to blanket the sky, no pressure that seemed to crush mountains.
There was no phenomenon of Intent kneading the world at will.
The Aura, compressed to its limit, was no different from an ordinary sword, and both the Sword Demon and Cheon Hwi wielded such swords, competing in pure Sword Art.
And that alone was enough to reach the realm of transcendence.
They exchanged dozens of sword strikes that even the Murim Alliance Leader could not fully comprehend.
It was a plain sword path with not a single extravagant technique, but above all, a perfect line was being drawn.
At this very moment, the world was clearly being sliced into dozens of pieces with every movement of the two swordsmen.
But this did not last long. From some point on, the Sword Demon's killing intent had grown even more vicious.
I could tell the moment I saw it. That blood-red killing intent had, in itself, entered the realm of Intent Severing.
Focused Intent makes the impossible possible. Even if it is a sword that brings death the moment it touches.
I was startled by the ferocious Intent for only a moment. Then, suddenly, the Sword Demon's small voice began to grow clear.
—If life is nothing but loss, if this world is nothing but pain, if that is simply how things are.
—Then I, and you as well.
—We should never have been born.
"Damn."
The heavy despair and resignation packed into those few short words shook the air around them.
What could a person possibly have to go through to see life itself as hell?
The Murim Alliance Leader had weathered much in his youth and had encountered Demonic Cultists more than a few times, but he had never seen anything like the Sword Demon.
His mind went numb, and at the same time, a foreboding unease began to bloom.
That thing is dangerous.
Seomun Hwa-rin, who had been watching with worry yet trust in Cheon Hwi, felt her gaze begin to waver.
It was in that moment that everyone, gauging the right opportunity, prepared to intervene.
Cheon Hwi briefly dismissed another truth that the Sword Demon—his own Simma—had spat out.
"Ugly to look at, and ugly to hear."
It was a resolute answer. But perhaps he was shaken inside. Cheon Hwi's sword, which had barely managed to hold its own, began to waver and crumble helplessly.
The sword art that had once drawn even the Murim Alliance Leader's admiration was nowhere to be found—now it was a crude blade swung about willfully, like a child throwing a tantrum.
The slight disadvantage soon pushed him to the brink of having his neck severed.
Yet the Sword Demon's blade never quite touched his skin. The strikes continued without pause, and so did Cheon Hwi's voice.
"As you said, perhaps life is nothing but suffering, and this world is a hell. But I do not regret being born."
Amidst the curses and killing intent emanating from the Sword Demon, a quiet affirmation bloomed.
Cheon Hwi's sword, which seemed on the verge of collapsing entirely, stubbornly held on.
"Even if the whole world wishes for my despair, not everyone living within it is wicked."
Even in the darkest place, sunlight shines. Even in the filthiest water, flowers bloom.
Even a beggar with nothing to his name can do something for the world.
For a single moment, the resolve the Murim Alliance Leader had sworn alone in his youth overlays Cheon Hwi's own.
"Whenever you lose something, the pain is like having your flesh torn from you—because they had given you that much of their own flesh."
Cheon Hwi points out where the Sword Demon's killing intent and deep anger first began.
Before he knew it, his sword had moved beyond merely holding on and was once again forming an exchange.
Only now, he was unleashing a completely different Sword Art than before.
"And as long as you don't die, there's always a next time."
It was different from his previous martial arts. The Crazy Wolf Life-Stealing Art was created solely for himself, so while it might allow Cheon Hwi to grow stronger, it could hardly be called a good martial art.
But now. Facing his own Simma, his sword trying to be reborn from the very bottom—it was clearly excellent even as a martial art.
If it contained Mystery, it was a first-rate martial art. If it contained life, it was an advanced martial art. Then what would one call a martial art that went beyond all of this and depicted an ideal?
The Murim Alliance Leader knew well that such martial arts were called divine arts.
"No matter how painful living is, no matter how everything slips through your fingers because you fail to protect even a single thing, and even if all that remains in the end is a deep wound."
A flower that has begun to bloom cannot be stopped unless it is completely snapped off.
And there was no one in this place who could twist and break Cheon Hwi's sword.
"Looking back, whether I was aware of it or not, I have never existed alone."
After stealing and learning countless swords, clashing against them to master them, and repeatedly tearing them apart and rebuilding them to suit my own taste.
Using all of this as fertilizer, a sword that has never existed before blooms.
Not someone else's sword, but a sword that is solely my own.
Cheon Hwi's sword blooms.
"In the end. People are destined to love people."
The sword, imbued with faint moonlight, traces a beautiful arc.
Yes. This is not a ferocious sword meant to kill enemies. It is a sword that embodies beauty.
It declares that even in the darkest night, there is light that illuminates the world.
It is a sword that carves the truth that beyond countless losses and despair, love ultimately remains.
Who could resist being bewitched by that sword?
The Murim Alliance Leader watches with vacant eyes as Cheon Hwi's sword pierces the Sword Demon's heart. Suddenly, a question someone had thrown at him when he had just become the Murim Alliance Leader flashes through his mind.
"…Tell me, what is righteousness?"
To this, the Murim Alliance Leader answered.
It is justice and a righteous heart, he said.
If justice is the will to make the world better on a grander scale.
A righteous heart means acting for what one believes to be right.
To encompass both of these is to be a righteous hero. If one could properly accomplish even one of the two, they would be worthy of being called a hero—that was the answer he had given.
Then what of the Cheon Hwi before his eyes?
He had proclaimed that the world was not a place of nothing but horror, and he had swung his sword for an answer that was deeply personal, yet all the more human for it.
"Ah."
Even if the world called Cheon Hwi the greatest of the Unorthodox Sects, even if his deeds were tyrannical and his past was dreadful.
At the core of Cheon Hwi there had always been goodwill toward the world and the people living within it.
There is only one way to call such a person.
"An Orthodox Sect member."
The Murim Alliance Leader narrowed his eyes as if he had witnessed something dazzling, and spoke with an excited voice.
"Now I understand, Head of the Seomun Clan. When you said the White Moon Sword Lord's roots lay in the Orthodox Sects, it was clearly because you recognized this."
"…"
No answer came from Seomun Hwa-rin, but the Murim Alliance Leader did not mind.
He simply wanted to recall the sword strike from just moments ago, even a little more.
And so, while everyone was lost in their own impressions of Cheon Hwi's sword.
From Seomun Hwa-rin's tightly hardened lips, a dazed sound slipped out.
"…Ah."
It was the voice of someone who had just witnessed something they never could have imagined, dazed and hollow.
"Euh?"
As if to say they honestly hadn't expected it to be this impressive.
"Nueee…"
In the end, a single trail of drool slipped down the corner of Seomun Hwa-rin's mouth.
It was such an unseemly sight that it was fortunate no one saw it—everyone's attention was still fixed on Cheon Hwi's sword.